The (Willing) Molestation of Timmy Turner
by AssasinNinja
Summary: A 20 something Timmy Turner reflects on a childhood incident with his malevolent babysitter, one that has had a permanent and troublesome affect on his love life. Told in flashback style, this story explores the possibility of a dangerous liaison between Timmy and Vicki, and it's impact on his adulthood.


Timmy Turner sat on the edge of his apartment's roof, sipping something from a stained white mug. It was a thursday morning in the middle of winter, and he was watching a light snow fall slowly to the ground. It wasn't cold enough for the snow to stick, and the little white puffs turned to water as they hit the black asphalt of the road. He sighed wearily, sick of the disappointingly snow-day devoid winter.

Timmy had only hours ago achieved a life's ambition. He had nailed Trixie Tang. After years of pining for her, and even more years of being sexually attracted to her, he had gotten Trixie into bed with him.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

"Timmy?" The aforementioned one night stand called from inside his room, still getting dressed.

"Yeah?" He answered absentmindedly, staring blankly into the dark liquid inside his mug.

She walked toward the window, sticking her head out toward Timmy, "I'm leaving now."

He sipped from the mug, grunting in response, "Hurm."

She heard his response, but unwilling to be treated so insignificantly, she asked, "Did you hear me?"

"Yes. Bye." He didn't turn around, but waved, "So long."

She huffed, at first quietly but when he showed no sign of a response she huffed louder.

Timmy turned around, his eyes filled with the highest amount of apathy he could fit into those two small orbs, "Did you say something?"

Realizing it was hopeless, the rejected Trixie grabbed her purse from the window sill and turned to leave, "Call me?"

"Hurm." Timmy turned back around, taking another sip from his mug. He barely registered the sound of the door slamming. He sighed.

Timmy did feel bad, it wasn't Trixie's fault she couldn't satisfy him. He knew he had no right to take his frustrations out on her. He was just so sick and tired of going through girl after girl, and not having a single one meet his expectations. He knew it wasn't his fault, after all, every girl he had bedded expressed their appreciation for his skill set quite vociferously. The truth was they just couldn't compare. No woman on earth could compare to the one who gave him his first sexual experience.

"What's the matter sport?" Timmy looked down beside his left foot, finding the source of the voice rather easily. A pink squirrel and her similarly oddly colored family sat beside his sneaker. The purple baby squirrel was gnawing at Timmy's loose shoelace.

"Wanda, you wouldn't understand." Timmy took one last sip from the mug, then realized it was empty. He debated wishing for a refill, but didn't feel like wasting his fairies considerable power on something as simple as iced tea.

He stood up, and crawled back through his open window, the squirrels followed him inside.

"You could still tell us, sweetie, maybe we could help." Wanda, ever the mother figure, couldn't possibly grasp the desperation of Timmy's ultimately male dilemma.

"I doubt it." The 23 year old walked into his small kitchen as his fairy god parents and their infant son changed into their humanoid forms.

"Poof."

"I especially don't want to talk about it around you, buddy." Timmy said, addressing the closest thing he had to a brother, "Sorry."

"Poof poof." The momentarily heartbroken baby flew away, and Wanda followed him.

"Poof, honey, please come back."

Timmy and Cosmo were all who remained in the kitchen, and the green haired fairy broke the silence, "What about me? Can you tell me?"

"No offense Cosmo, but I think you're less mature than Poof."

"I am not!" Momentarily heartbroken, a teary-eyed Cosmo fled the room, "How could you say that?"

Timmy sighed and poured more tea into his mug. His odd family was still in the main room of his apartment, where Wanda was trying her hardest to console both her child-like child and her child-like husband. He took a fresh sip of the tea before sitting down at his compact kitchen table.

His cell-phone had been sitting on the table since before the sun rose, because the kitchen was where he and Trixie had started to de-clothe each other. He curiously pulled it toward him, and unlocked it.

The clicking sound the phone made was accompanied by the glowing lock-screen, which clearly displayed his missed-calls and unread text messages. His parents had called him at 8:30, probably to invite him to breakfast or something equally mundane with barely an hour's notice. He scoffed aloud at their horrible lack of effort, and decided to save the voicemail for later. He had a text-message from AJ, asking him whether he was coming into work, and another from Francis asking him if he could come buy today to look at the car.

He sighed again, partially because he was amazed at how many people were awake before noon, but mainly because he suddenly remembered that he was selling his treasured car.

Life was simpler in his youth, he reluctantly thought, he may have had to deal with his terrible parents and their poor parenting choices 24-7, but at least he had them as an excuse for his disappointing life. Thinking back, he almost preferred the simplicity of his youth to the complications of his adulthood. He especially preferred the memory of the cause of his latent sexual dissatisfaction to the crushing knowledge of it's unchanging presence.

He took another sip from his tea and pocketed his phone. Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to that charmingly dark memory...

* * *

Thirteen year old Timmy Turner picked his hat up from the ground and stood up, not for a second wondering what it was that had tripped him.

"Watch where you walk, twerp."

Yep, he thought, it was Vicki.

"Come on, get inside." She said.

"What?" He asked.

"I'm babysitting you, get inside."

"My parents didn't say anything."

"They called me on the road, get inside." Vicki repeated. This time, Timmy listened.

He picked up his green lacrosse stick and pink ball and followed her inside, he sat them all down on an end-table along with his purple gloves. Timmy was suspicious, when his parents had gone out to dinner thirty minutes prior, they hadn't mentioned anything about a babysitter. In fact, they hadn't mentioned anything about a babysitter in almost a year. At thirteen, they had given Timmy full responsibility over watching himself, and he had been doing so almost every time they went out.

So what made this time different? He asked himself. Vicki had an anxious look about her, which Timmy noticed. He debated asking her if anything was wrong, but decided against it.

She closed the door and locked it, leaving Timmy a bit more frightened than usual when in the presence of his maniacal babysitter. When she threw the dead-bolt, his apprehension neared hysteria.

"What... what are you going to do to me?" He asked, his voice shaky with fear.

Vicki spoke quietly, and for the first time in a long time, Timmy thought he heard sadness in her voice, "Don't worry... I'm not going to hurt you."

Suddenly, Timmy found his lips assaulted with Vicki's, and he repressed the urge to scream.

What was happening? His mind searched for answers but he couldn't find any, the only explanation was that Vicki was kissing him, but that just couldn't have been true. Surely this was some new form of torture, he thought to himself, some sort of psychological evisceration.

He felt her lips press against his, and squirm like two soft miners trying to pry open his mouth. When they got it ajar, she slid her tongue inside, and Timmy trembled. He had never really kissed a woman before, and the experience was too perplexing to be thoroughly enjoyed. Yet somehow through the abhorrence he was still feeling pleasure. There was no denying Vicki was attractive, and there was even less denying that she knew how to kiss.

But she was still Icky Vicki! The girl who had tortured Timmy in his youth, and tormented him on a daily basis!

Then, she retreated, and Timmy found himself missing the taste of her. He looked up at her, and was even more surprised to see her crying than he was at himself for being turned on.

"Oh, Timmy... I'm so sorry."

"Why... why did you kiss me?" He asked, flabbergasted.

She closed her eyes, "I've loved you for so long."

"What?"

She pulled him into a tight hug, "I've watched you grow up, Timmy Turner... and as you grew so did my love for you. It was so frustrating! You were so much younger than me, and I loved you! I wanted you, but I couldn't have you, so I tortured you! I took out my frustrations on you, and I'm so sorry!"

Timmy's mind was blown. In fact, he thought he could smell the smoke and could've sworn he tasted blood in his mouth, but maybe Vicki's razor sharp tongue had just cut him when they were kissing, "What!? What!? How could you- What!?"

"I'm so sorry, Timmy." She said, playing with his hair, her sad smile breaking Timmy's heart.

"Why come out with it all of the sudden?" He asked, still in utter disbelief, "Why now?"

"I'm moving, going to school out of state... and I don't plan on coming back." She said, weeping, "I had to tell you, before we never see each other again."

Timmy was completely struck by the total vulnerability of Vicki. He should have hated her for it, and he knew that. He should have hated her for everything she had ever done to him. He should've seen this as the only thing it could have been, some dirty trick to humiliate and harm him, but he couldn't. The tears were just too real. Every jerking movement she made with each sob just drove a dagger deeper and deeper into Timmy's heart.

So in his youthful naivety he thrust himself toward her and planted his lips back on hers. He felt her gasp through his awkward kiss. She took ahold of his hair and took back control of the kiss.

For several minutes, they continued. Their lips and tongues ever moving, encircling one another and sucking at each other's warmth. Then, Vicki crept her cold fingers slowly down Timmy's stomach, and wedged them between his waistband and the warm skin of his groin.

"Ugh." He half-squeaked half-groaned, "Wait."

She shushed him and unbuttoned his jeans.

* * *

Maybe that was what made it so much better, Timmy thought to himself, the whole scenario was so unlikely and inappropriate that it made everything so much sexier. Or maybe he was just a little boy, trapped in a man's body, hanging on forever to a sick fantasy.

Vicki had left a few hours after their 'interaction' and Timmy had spent months getting over her. His parents assumed it was some girl at school that had left his heart broken, how oblivious they were to the truth. Nobody but Timmy knew of what happened that day, not even Cosmo and Wanda.

He sighed, and took the last sip of tea from the mug. As he got up to refill it, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Tootie had texted him, 'Back in town.'

Perplexed, Timmy replied, 'When did you leave?'

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and poured the tea, waiting, but not too eagerly for a response. As he sat down and took a sip, his phone buzzed again.

He choked on his tea when he read the text,

'Using sister's phone didn't have your #, wanna meet?'

He typed in 'yes now' in a hurry, and grabbed his coat and hat off of the counter, "I'm going out you guys. Don't wait up."

If they replied he didn't hear them, his mind was solely focused on getting outside and into his car, which he immediately decided he wasn't planning on selling anytime soon. He checked his phone before starting the engine.

'The old skate park?'

'Cya there.' He turned the key, and like his heart, his car roared to life.


End file.
